Morning as Usual

Morning as usual; orange juice, coffee with just a touch of coffee and lots of cream and sugar, toast with strawberry jam and the newspaper. I didn't need a kitchen light because the sun was shinning through the kitchen window like a 60 WATT light bulb.

I sat reading the paper when I heard a squeak from outside. I listened, focusing on the front door.

Then I heard it again, squeak, ending with a clank. I laid down the paper, set down the cup of coffee, stood up from the table and stared at the front door; as though I knew who or what was out there and was waiting for confirmation.

The palms of my hands began to perspire, my face felt clammy and I could feel the color in my face drain out. Now the perspiration was slowly trickling down the sides of my face, over my high American Indian cheek bones down my jaw bone dripping onto my collar bone.

I tried to move from the table, but my bare feet felt like they were nailed to the floor. I looked down at the table and gently pushed it forward. I leaned over to the chair next to me and took my robe off of it. Some how I managed to put my robe on and tie it around my waist.

I told myself, "I can do this, I can do this", I began moving one foot in front of the other. Again and again I managed to quietly move my feet; moving from the table. I headed to the garage door, grasping the door nob I turned the nob and pushed my way into the garage.

The dark dampness of the garage gave me some security. As I put my hand on my 1967 Volkswagen Bug I felt a sense of calm. I walked beside the car, eyes focused on the button to open the garage door, until I reached the end of the car. I reached up to the garage door opener on the wall; pushed the button and slowly the door began to open. Half way up the door stopped and made a loud clanking noise. I reached over and pushed the button again. Once again the door began to go up.

The driveway was empty, no cars across the street, down the right side of the street nor the left. Alone, I was alone! No one was going to hear my screams or cries. Everyone had already hit the freeway headed downtown to work. I crossed the garage threshold and darted down the driveway. At the bottom of the driveway I looked to my left and there it was.

I slowly raised my right hand and touched the small decorative flag waving in the gentle breeze. I love that flag it was perched there displaying my patriotism and protecting the numbers 8645.

I turned my body just a little so I was facing the opening of the box. Then, without warning, a sudden creek and squeak and the door fell open. I jumped back terrified of the dark gabbing hold that stared at me. I rubbed my hands together and slowly moved my right suntanned hand into the hole. Further and further I moved my hand in. I could feel it now; soft, smooth and fat.

My breathing quickened and my lips were dry. Now I had it in front of me and I pulled it to my chest, covering it with both palms of my hands. I looked up the street and still no cars, no humans in sight and no noise from the birds or the neighborhood dogs.

I turned towards my garage door and dashed back up the driveway, pushed the garage door button and darted inside; not waiting for the garage door to close.

Once inside I moved to the knife drawer and rummaged for the sharpest knife.

I pulled out the knife and slowly moved through the epidermis from one side to the other. I could hear myself saying out loud "O God please, please, please". Small amounts of blood smeared over the soft smooth sheath. First blood. I reached the table and wrapped a towel around the wound. I continued on until I had the guts out, laying spread all over the table and facing me.

"Dear Ms. Smith,
We are proud to announce that your manuscript has been accepted for publication....."